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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23061829">Danse Macabre</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherierouge/pseuds/cherierouge'>cherierouge</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>EXO (Band), K-pop</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Abuse, Alternate Universe - Mob, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Angst, Anxiety Attacks, Barebacking, Blood, Blow Jobs, Bottom Byun Baekhyun, Cop Park Chanyeol, Crying, Dark, Drugged Sex, Drunk Sex, Emotional Manipulation, Forced Prostitution, Gang Rape, Gun Kink, Gun play, Infidelity, Knifeplay, M/M, Mob boss Wu Yi Fan | Kris, Murder, Mutilation, Mutual Pining, Painful Sex, Panic Attacks, Physical Abuse, Prostitute Byun Baekhyun, Prostitution, Rough Sex, Sexual Abuse, Top Park Chanyeol, Top Wu Yi Fan | Kris, Torture, Unrequited Byun Baekhyun/Do Kyungsoo | D.O, Unsafe Sex, Vampire Do Kyungsoo | D.O, Who the Major Character Death applies to is a mystery, Whump</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 07:27:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,279</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23061829</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherierouge/pseuds/cherierouge</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A whore whose body and soul are another man’s property. A lovestruck young cop who quickly becomes desperate to save him. Beneath a moonless winter night, Byun Baekhyun and Park Chanyeol spin this age-old tale once over.</p><p>Do Kyungsoo has lived long enough to believe their starry-eyed romance will only end in tragedy.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Byun Baekhyun/Do Kyungsoo | D.O, Byun Baekhyun/Everyone, Byun Baekhyun/Park Chanyeol, Byun Baekhyun/Wu Yi Fan | Kris</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>75</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Prologue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
  </p><p>This story is cross-posted on <a href="https://www.asianfanfics.com/story/view/1437790/danse-macabre">AFF</a>. </p><p>If you can’t already tell by the tags, this will be a very dark story with heavy angst, and it will include depictions of rape, graphic violence, and abuse. As it should go without saying, this is purely fiction. I do not condone these kinds of actions in real life in any way at all, and this story does not reflect how I actually view the celebrities depicted.</p><p>If you don’t like this kind of content, please take care and don’t read if it will upset you.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Do Kyungsoo feeds off of what they call the scum of the night.</p><p>He has for centuries, but he can’t deny that it’s gotten easier over the last few decades. After all, it isn’t hard to drain blood from the sleeping bodies of the growing number of addicts on the streets, too drugged out of their minds to hold onto their last threads of life with a struggle. Or to coerce the prostitutes desperate enough for their next hit that they don’t notice the coldness of his eyes, snapping their necks as he buries himself inside them. Laced with familiar narcotics, their blood always leaves a bitter stain on his tongue.</p><p>But blood is blood, and it satiates him, if only for the moment.</p><p>If he’s looking for a struggle, he’ll try his hand at trailing the serial killers and rapists. Perhaps it’s a form of vigilante justice, he supposes, as his fangs rip into their arteries and their writhing bodies go slack beneath his grip. Perhaps three centuries ago, when he still trembled with remorse at the sight of a corpse in his arms, he would have clung to it.</p><p>But he has long since learned to let go of those pretenses of morality, of his delusions of humanity. He has learned that this world is cruel: there is survival, and there is death. He has chosen to survive—and to accept the death that comes with it.</p><p>It’s survival that’s on his mind as he watches what looks like two college students force a man against the brick wall of an alley of the red light district. The man—he can’t be much older than a teenager—is petite, all fragile edges and slender limbs. And even from a block away, Kyungsoo’s heightened senses can pick up that he reeks of alcohol and spent semen. Of a night’s worth of sex with other men.</p><p>A prostitute then. A boy whore, who stumbles as one of the students shoves his skin-tight jeans down his thighs to squeeze at his ass.</p><p>“What’re you struggling for? You’ve been begging for my dick all night,” Kyungsoo hears as he steps closer.</p><p>There’s a muffled response, before Kyungsoo hears laughter.</p><p>“How much did you say you wanted? We’ll double it, if you just suck him off while you let me fuck your ass. He’ll even wear the fucking condom, like you wanted.”</p><p>The prostitute hesitates, breathing shallowly, before he reaches into his pocket to pull out two silver foil packets.</p><p>“Give me the money first.” His voice is hoarse, but Kyungsoo can tell that he’s used to speaking with a melodic lilt; it almost reminds him of honey.</p><p>The man holding him down laughs again, before digging out a wad of paper bills. “Half first, baby. I’ll give you the rest after you’ve made me come.”</p><p>Kyungsoo watches the prostitute count the bills before crumpling them into his front pocket. It’s not long after he gets on his hands and knees that the slaps and squelching noises of sex echo through the empty alleyway, followed by harsh groans and pained whimpers.</p><p>“Fuck,“ the man thrusting into his ass growls. “Can’t come with a condom on.”</p><p>Suddenly, the prostitute’s head is whipping around, and Kyungsoo is close enough to see the tear tracks shining on his face in the yellow glow of the street lamp. The panic in his tone is obvious as he tells the man to stop, to wait, please, until the grip in his hair forces a cock back down his throat.</p><p>Kyungsoo listens as those small whimpers draw themselves out into pitchy wails, before a slap in the face muffles them again.</p><p>“Stop crying so much, goddamn, we’re clean.”</p><p>When the prostitute is finally allowed to collapse to the cold concrete, there’s cum leaking out of his ass and tremors wracking his body as he coughs harshly. Just as Kyungsoo thinks the two men will tuck themselves back into their pants and leave, one pulls the prostitute’s jeans down to his ankles and begins to fish through the pockets.</p><p>“Shit, there’s over half a million won in here!”</p><p>The other laughs. “You’re really a slut, aren’t you?” He kicks the man lying on the ground hard in the ribs. “Don’t worry too much about us, I’m sure you can earn it all back by sucking a few more cocks in the morning.”</p><p>Watching their figures retreat, Kyungsoo feels an echo of pity nagging at his chest. But he’s hungry tonight, and he knows where his easiest meal lies.</p><p>The prostitute struggles to stand, bracing himself against the alley wall, before collapsing to his knees again in a fit of harsh gasping. As he sees him curl in on himself on the ground, Kyungsoo wonders how long it will take for the prostitute to notice someone walking closer.</p><p>He’s pretty, Kyungsoo notes absently, taking in the delicate arch of his lips, the tears clinging to his eyelashes, the dips of his bare collarbones. And at this distance, his blood smells... good. It smells so good, more than good.</p><p>When was the last time he fed? It was only a week ago, he shouldn’t be feeling this... affected. But something inside Kyungsoo burns, and suddenly hunger is the only thing on his mind. The prostitute rolls onto his back, exposing the mottled bruises on his neck to stare up at the night sky.</p><p>Kyungsoo feels his fangs dig into his lips.</p><p>If he were to approach without expending his energy on a glamor, would someone so weakened already have the strength to run? Or should he put on the pretense of a concerned passerby, albeit one at two in the morning?</p><p>The blare of a police siren, followed by the slam of a car door, rips him out of his own thoughts. Ducking back behind a building, Kyungsoo sees red. When he brings himself to focus again, he hears the conversation going on behind him.</p><p>“Please sir, I need to bring you in to do a rape kit—“</p><p>“Let go of me!”</p><p>“Sir—“</p><p>“Just leave it, okay? I wasn’t... I wasn’t raped.”</p><p>“But sir, you—“</p><p>“I’m a prostitute! A whore! I let them fuck me, alright?”</p><p>A pause. “... I have to bring you in either way, then. I can’t let you keep doing something illegal.”</p><p>Kyungsoo snorts despite himself in the silence that follows. Pretty boy is regretting his temper now, isn’t he?</p><p>“W-wait, no, officer, it was just for tonight. I was only doing it for tonight! I need to pay my... my rent, please!”</p><p>“Sir, I’m really trying to help you—“</p><p>He’s cut off by a sob.</p><p>“Please, I can’t go to jail, I-I... can’t,” Kyungsoo hears him choke out. “I have no money, there’s no one—“</p><p>Kyungsoo can tell the cop’s a rookie, his tone is too soft as he asks the prostitute to put his hands behind his back, too apologetic already.</p><p>He sets off once he hears the cop’s car door slam shut again. He finds his meal for the night in one of the same men who fucked and robbed that prostitute, passed out drunk outside a bar three blocks away.</p><p>Kyungsoo slits his throat when his heartbeat stops, as he always does to hide the twin puncture wounds of his fangs. He finds a little more than four hundred thousand won in his wallet.</p><p>Pocketing the money, he tries to stop thinking of that scent. That intoxicating scent of blood which, even on a full stomach, sends hunger pangs through his body.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>As the summary says, the prostitute is Baekhyun, and the cop is Chanyeol. Ahh I was so cruel to Baekhyun in this prologue, it will get better for him... at least for these next few chapters. And yes, there will be a bit of Baeksoo in this, probably a couple chapters down the line. Also, for reference if you’re a clueless American like me, $1 = around 1000 Korean won.</p><p>First official chapter from Baekhyun’s POV will be coming soon :D</p><p>Please let me know what you think of this vampire-mafia hybrid AU, even if it’s just a crumb! I live off comments :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. I</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Baekhyun bruises easily.</p><p>It used to be stray table edges and the occasional door frame that always left black and blue blossoming on his skin. His mother would scold him for being so clumsy, and he never dared to tell her that he found the darkened splotches pretty.</p><p>And for that strange reason, he liked them.</p><p>But he isn’t a child anymore. The sources of his bruises are no longer household nuisances, but the men who spread his legs each night. The men who suck red and purple against his jaw and inner thighs, praising him as <em>So beautiful</em>, as well as the ones who wrap their fists tight around his neck to savor how he cries and begs, until he cannot even do that. So helpless. So <em>pathetic</em>.</p><p>He’s cheap. He doesn’t have many rules. He has fewer limits, because he can never fight off the men who break those rules anyways.</p><p>
  <em>No sex without a condom. No kissing. No names. Only one partner.</em>
</p><p>He sees the bruises in the mirror at the end of every night: littering his neck and collarbones, staining his kneecaps, scattering across his hips, chest, arms, and wherever else a client presses or grips too harshly.</p><p>He hates them.</p><p>He hates them because the bruises are a map of just how filthy he is, of how used his body has become. They’re a reminder of how he has no dignity left.</p><p>Now, as he sits in the back of a police cruiser, he can already feel the bruises forming along his wrists where the metal handcuffs dig painfully into his skin. In all their bodily permanence, they scream at him, <em>it’s over</em>. Still, he cannot stop himself from begging so desperately.</p><p>“Officer, please, I only needed the money for tonight! Or else I-I have nowhere to go, I’d be evicted. It’s February, it-it’s winter, and I’d be sleeping on the streets. Officer!”</p><p>It’s half true anyways. He begins to cry again, some of it for show, more of it because he’s frightened. He knows what would happen to him if he were to go to jail.</p><p>“Please,” he sobs, “please let me go. I promise I’ll never do it again.”</p><p>The cop—his surname is Park, Baekhyun had glimpsed from his uniform—doesn’t say a word. But Baekhyun had seen his demeanor when he rushed to shake him awake when Baekhyun was still lying in that alley. His face had been full of worry, and then pity as he escorted Baekhyun to his cruiser. He looks young. Baekhyun doesn’t think he can’t be swayed, at least by a little.</p><p>“Please,” he repeats, “I’ll do anything. Anything you want, officer. You can do anything you want to me, if y—”</p><p>“What do you take me for, to say something disgusting like that?” the police officer finally grits out.</p><p>He sounds angry.</p><p>No, no, no, no, no, please, no.</p><p>Baekhyun finally breaks down, letting himself slump against the backseat of the cruiser. The tears are incessant; it’s getting harder for him to breathe, let alone speak.</p><p>“I… I… I-I’m scared,” Baekhyun manages before his breath feels like it’s torn from his lungs. The darkness, accentuated by the bars enclosing the car windows, is suddenly pressing in on him, and his own heartbeat is loud, so loud.</p><p>He thinks he’s going to die. God, he’s going to die.</p><p>He doesn’t register that the vehicle has stopped until he finally looks up to see the officer’s face, filled with that same worry, staring down at him through the opened car door. Baekhyun realizes he’s been gasping for air, collapsed against the small space of his seat, his face pressed against cold plastic.</p><p>“Are you… alright?”</p><p>Baekhyun simply stares back at him, his heart still racing far too quickly to make a response.</p><p>“Look, you can nod or shake your head to answer me, okay? Nod if you can do that.”</p><p>Baekhyun nods slowly.</p><p>“Does this kind of thing happen to you a lot? Do you have some sort of anxiety condition?”</p><p>He shakes his head. He... doesn’t, right? Nothing like this had ever happened to him before tonight, outside of the times when lying underneath a client’s body made him fear for his life. That fear though—it’s not unfamiliar. Baekhyun had felt it in that alleyway, where he was... raped.</p><p>He was raped tonight. He had let those men rape him, and he had let them walk away.</p><p>The officer seems to sense his growing distress because the furrow in his brow softens, and he bites his lip. Baekhyun hears him sigh heavily. “Do you think you can talk to me a little bit now?” the cop finally asks. Baekhyun nods.</p><p>“What’s your name?”</p><p>Baekhyun carries a fake ID on him every night. Those are the rules: Never reveal your identity. Never risk exposure. Always lie.</p><p>The punishment for doing otherwise could be death.</p><p>“Kim Hangyeol,” Baekhyun breathes.</p><p>The look on the officer’s face is indecipherable, and Baekhyun hopes it’s not one of skepticism.</p><p>“And your age is?”</p><p>“Twenty five.” Another lie, but a smaller one. He turns twenty four in three months.</p><p>“Well, Mr. Kim, if you’re only doing this for tonight, do you have regular employment?”</p><p>Baekhyun hesitates. “I’m... I’m a singer. I did—I do performances around here.” He had loved the stage, and mentioning it now makes his chest tighten again.</p><p>“It’s not much money,” he adds quietly after a moment, “but it was my dream.”</p><p>The cop is silent, turning away so Baekhyun can no longer look him in the eyes. “I’m going to tell you the truth,” he says. “I don’t want to arrest you either. I just don’t… want to see your body on the streets the next time I’m on patrol. Or worse.”</p><p>His eyes lock with Baekhyun’s again, and there’s worry clouding his features. “This isn’t a safe part of the city. I haven’t even been with the department that long, and I’ve seen… I’ve seen what can happen to prostitutes around here.”</p><p>“Officer, I—”</p><p>“It’ll just be a citation, okay? I’m going to trust you, so I’ll just give you a citation for tonight—just a fine. But I still need you to come to the station with me so we have your information on file.”</p><p>Baekhyun feels his heart sink and settle. As he watches the cop jot down notes with Baekhyun’s fake ID in hand, he wonders how far this fragile castle of lies will protect him before he’s crushed underneath its walls. He can’t let a record of his information, fabricated or not, exist. He won’t. But already, he has nowhere to turn.</p><p>So Baekhyun only nods. He wills himself to spend the remainder of the car ride to the police station in comparable silence, with the fear piercing his chest growing hollower and hollower until cold numbness floods his body.</p><p>But the small brick building they park in front of is dim. A try at the front doors and side doors makes it clear that they’re locked—there’s no one inside.</p><p>“Fuck,” the officer curses, punching numbers into his phone. Baekhyun peers at him curiously as no one picks up. Again and again, until he pulls the phone away from his ear and dials a different number.</p><p>“Sehun, where the hell is Jongdae? It’s his shift tonight.”</p><p>The officer’s face grows more and more exasperated as the voice on the other end seems to launch into an explanation.</p><p>“Did he not know the date of something like that beforehand? And what do you mean someone’s coming soon? When is soon?! Yes, I do have someone here, I need to process hi—”</p><p>“Officer,” Baekhyun whispers abruptly, swaying where he stands. “My… my head feels—”</p><p>Before the cop can as much as react, Baekhyun’s eyelids are fluttering shut as he lets himself fall, tilting sideways in the direction where full body contact with concrete would hurt the most. For those split seconds, air rushes past his ears, and Baekhyun bites the inside of his cheek, bracing for pain.</p><p>“Chanyeol? Chanyeol, are you still there?”</p><p>The tinny voice on the phone is suddenly close enough for Baekhyun to hear.</p><p>His hip had hit the ground with a sickening crack, but the rest of the impact doesn’t come—he feels warm arms holding him up by his waist and shoulders. As the officer gently lowers him to the ground and moves to pick up his phone from where it had clattered onto the sidewalk, Baekhyun hears that name again.</p><p>“Chanyeol? Are you okay?”</p><p>Chanyeol. Park Chanyeol. Baekhyun repeats the officer’s name in his head, and then imagines rolling it over and over on his tongue.</p><p>“Yeah, sorry, I’m fine. This guy I’m with just collapsed though.” There’s another long pause in the conversation before he speaks again.</p><p>“Yeah, he’s the one I’m bringing in. For a citation. No, no, he’s not linked to <em>those</em> cases, I just said it was a citation, remember?”</p><p>Chanyeol’s fingers probe beneath Baekhyun’s jaw for a pulse, and then brush his fringe aside to touch his forehead.</p><p>“I... I don’t know what happened. His heart is beating really fast. And he’s... really cold. He won’t stop shivering.”</p><p>He shakes Baekhyun’s body slightly, but Baekhyun determinedly keeps his eyes closed. He knows this—this guise of unconsciousness and illness—could be what saves him tonight, if only he makes it convincing enough.</p><p>“Mr. Kim, can you hear me?” Chanyeol asks softly. “Mr. Kim?”</p><p>“He’s not waking up. He tried to say something to me before he fainted, it was something with his head...?” Baekhyun feels a hand on his pulse again before Chanyeol is lifting his head to check for hidden injuries.</p><p>“Yeah, actually, there was something that happened on the way here. He had a really bad reaction to something, I had to pull over. No, it wasn’t—I didn’t do anything!”</p><p>Something warm and fleecy settles over Baekhyun’s body, and he almost opens his eyes in panic until he realizes it’s just a coat. The officer’s winter coat.</p><p>“I-I don’t know, he said he didn’t have a condition or anything! It just sounded like... it sounded like he couldn’t breathe. Sehun, how long is it going to take someone to get here?”</p><p>Whatever Sehun’s answer was must not have been enough, because Chanyeol scoops Baekhyun’s body up in his arms as soon as the conversation ends. With his face nestled against the officer’s chest, Baekhyun can’t make out where he’s being taken. Soon, however, the loud beep of car doors being unlocked tells him that Chanyeol has walked them back to the police cruiser.</p><p>Baekhyun is maneuvered into the backseat again, but this time Chanyeol’s hands are quickly at his wrists. The metal handcuffs click open, and Chanyeol slips Baekhyun’s arms into the oversized sleeves of the winter coat and draws the zipper up to Baekhyun’s chin.</p><p>It’s warm. Baekhyun thinks he could laugh at how foreign even warmth feels to him now, but somehow his eyes sting with tears instead. As the rumble of the vehicle against the road grows steadier, Baekhyun can’t help but let himself be lulled into a sense of safety, as misguided as he knows it is.</p><p>Peering through his eyelashes, he can see the glow of the city coupled with the headlights of passing cars through his barred window. He watches them meld, blurring past in streaks of red and white, until his eyelids grow heavier.</p><p>Baekhyun doesn’t register when those lights in his vision seem to fade to black, or when he finally falls asleep.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>He wakes to someone taking off his clothes.</p><p>Baekhyun immediately bolts upright, instinct and panic moving his body before he can even blink the sleep from his eyes. Breathing heavily, he stares at the police officer—no, Park Chanyeol—looking back at him with the same alarm.</p><p>He’s lying on a bed, propped up against pillows, and his shirt is gone. Chanyeol’s hand is on his waistband.</p><p>Baekhyun’s eyes narrow, and then Chanyeol’s face flames red.</p><p>“I—sorry, sorry! I’m not trying anything, I swear, I just wanted to check you for injuries,” he stammers.</p><p>Now, Baekhyun can see the warm compress in Chanyeol’s other hand, as well as the small first aid kid lying at the edge of the bed.</p><p>“You took a pretty hard fall,” Chanyeol adds, “but I don’t think you broke any bones.”</p><p>Now that Chanyeol is illuminated clearly, Baekhyun notices the large ears framing his face. The blush on Chanyeol’s cheeks extends to the tips of those ears, and if Baekhyun weren’t so stricken with caution, he would have given in to the inexplicable urge to rub them.</p><p>“Do you,” Chanyeol starts again, “remember anything? Is your head alright?”</p><p>“Where’s my shirt?” Baekhyun responds coldly.</p><p>Chanyeol looks startled, before that flush begins creeping back across his face. “I put it in the wash. There was some... staining on it, and I thought you wouldn’t wake up for a while. I can have it dried for you by tonight though, if you want it—“</p><p>“Where did you take me?”</p><p>“Oh. My apartment. We’re in the guest room.”</p><p>Baekhyun blinks at him.</p><p>“I... didn’t want to keep you in the cold. I still need you to come with me to book your records, but you weren’t responding to anything, you were trembling really badly. Look, I know this is pretty far from professional, but—“</p><p>Baekhyun clasps one of Chanyeol’s hands between his palms to get him to stop talking.</p><p>“Thank you,” he whispers, lips quirking upwards into a soft smile. Watching closely for the cop’s reaction, Baekhyun catches how he ducks his gaze just slightly to avoid Baekhyun’s eyes.</p><p>This may be easier than he thought.</p><p>“Could I,” Baekhyun murmurs, “take a shower?”</p><p>At that though, Chanyeol seems torn. “Are you sure you don’t want a rape kit?” he asks hesitantly. “I need you to answer me seriously.” Baekhyun shakes his head firmly. Any examination would be another record to trace back to him with, another record he can’t afford to have.</p><p>Chanyeol’s bathroom is six steps and a right turn from the guest bedroom. Once Baekhyun’s arms are full with a borrowed towel and bathrobe, he lets himself sink to the floor, his head falling back to rest against the closed door. Baekhyun isn’t allowed to lock it. Chanyeol would be waiting outside; he had the key.</p><p>It was for if he needed anything, Chanyeol had told him, unconvincingly. But Baekhyun has no plans to drown himself or slit his own throat with the razor blade on the sink counter, so he hardly cares.</p><p>Instead, he focuses on scrubbing his skin raw. The itch of dried cum between his legs makes him want to retch, so he scrapes until he’s sure he can feel pinpricks of blood surface beneath the scalding water. He wants to hurt. He needs this pain—this punishment—it’s the only way he can ever feel close to clean again.</p><p>Once the water finally stops, Baekhyun sidesteps the fluffy white towel Chanyeol had handed him to stare at his own naked body in the mirror. For the first time that night, he notices a fresh cut beneath his lip—probably from when one of those men had slapped him in the alley. There’s an aggressive bruise blooming across the right side of his ribs, along with the typical hickeys decorating his neck. The rest of his body is covered in pairs and triplets of angry red lines—marks left behind by his own nails in an effort to stem the increasingly pervasive shame and self-hatred.</p><p>He opens his mouth to check for stray hairs wedged between his teeth, tongue swiping over his canines and then his molars, before pulling his lips back in an effort to smile. The result looks grotesque—his eyes have no light in them, the rest of his face is gaunt, almost skeletal.</p><p>God, what’s happened to him?</p><p>The more he stares at the figure in the mirror, the less recognizable he becomes to himself. He’s lost so much weight. His under eyes are sunken with dark bags, his ribs and hips protrude as if they’re set to burst from his skin.</p><p>A sharp knock on the door, and then Chanyeol’s voice, however, forces Baekhyun to turn his immediate attention to how much water has dripped from his wet hair onto the tiles beneath his feet. He absently grabs the towel and runs it over his head. Quickly tossing on the bathrobe as well, Baekhyun pulls the door open.</p><p>He almost crashes headfirst into Chanyeol, who stumbles and backs himself against the hallway wall. Baekhyun notices how the other’s eyes flit over his body before looking away quickly.</p><p>Baekhyun isn’t used to men being so… <em>bashful</em> around him. It’s almost cute.</p><p>“Does your head feel better now?” Chanyeol starts.</p><p>“I feel a little dizzy,” Baekhyun lies. “But it just happens in bursts, nothing too bad.”</p><p>Chanyeol reacts exactly how Baekhyun wants him to, with furrowed brows and worry darkening his eyes. “You should lie down then,” he says, “until at least morning. It’s almost five; I’ll give you a couple of hours.”</p><p>Baekhyun has no objections, settling underneath the thick comforter in Chanyeol’s guest room, until Chanyeol draws out the metal handcuffs again.</p><p>“Sorry, I just need to make sure you don’t leave in the middle of the night,” he says as he moves to cuff Baekhyun’s wrist to the bedpost. “It’s for your safety too.”</p><p>“Wait—” Baekhyun says, suddenly panicked again. He holds up his right hand, making sure the ring of bruises encircling his wrist is visible. “Is there any way you could do, well, <em>that</em> without those handcuffs? They’re really painful on me.”</p><p>Chanyeol looks shocked at the sight, and Baekhyun almost feels bad for him. But it does the job: Chanyeol’s tone immediately becomes apologetic. “I’m sorry, these usually fit fine on everyone. They’re supposed to be standard issue.”</p><p>“I… I don’t know,” Baekhyun mumbles, eyes downcast. He bites his lip, trying to make his voice as small as possible. “I don’t know why they hurt on me then.” Bringing both hands to rest in his lap, he puts his bruised wrists on full display. “Are you sure you don’t have a bigger set?”</p><p>“Nothing technically larger, but there’s zip ties,” Chanyeol answers tentatively. “We can try those until we figure something out, is that okay?”</p><p>Baekhyun nods hesitantly.</p><p>“Stay here, okay? I’ll get your clothes too,” Chanyeol says before shutting the guest room door behind him. Baekhyun stays, letting his eyes wander over the blank walls of the room and then the floral patterning of Chanyeol’s bedsheets. He only needs to string the cop along for a little longer, just a little longer, and he’s free. Just a little longer, if he plays this right—</p><p>“I brought something for your bruises,” Chanyeol voice startles Baekhyun out of his thoughts. The cop shuts the door again and sits at the edge of the bed, laying down several heavy duty zip ties onto the mattress, along with Baekhyun’s folded shirt and jeans. “I used to do a ton of sports, so my mom always had these around.”</p><p>He’s holding a small tub of white ointment, and taking Baekhyun’s arm, he scoops a dollop out to rub onto Baekhyun’s wrist. Baekhyun lets him without a word, passively watching as warm fingers smooth circles onto his skin.</p><p>Chanyeol fits the zip tie to Baekhyun’s wrist soon afterward, asking after Baekhyun each time he tightens the band. Baekhyun knows, however, that as soft-hearted as the cop has shown himself to be, even he cannot be completely oblivious. Baekhyun stops him when the zip tie loop is large enough for his hand to slip through with some effort, but narrow enough to not raise suspicion.</p><p>“Can I… do your neck too?” Chanyeol asks after a long stretch of silence. He had just finished fastening the zip tie around Baekhyun’s wrist to a larger chain, allowing Baekhyun to finally rest his hand against the mattress comfortably. Chanyeol reaches for the bruise relief cream again. “It’ll help them go away faster.”</p><p>Baekhyun glances at him warily—fingers on his throat have a history of rousing his nerves, and not in a good way—but finally nods yes. “Go ahead. Do whatever,” he answers, but shuts his eyes afterward.</p><p>He lets Chanyeol massage the cream above his collarbones, against the soft skin beneath his jaw, and into all the areas in-between. Baekhyun can feel slight calluses on Chanyeol’s fingers graze against his skin, but his touch is overwhelmingly gentle. As Chanyeol slowly brushes against the column of Baekhyun’s throat, Baekhyun shivers. His face feels hot.</p><p>Suddenly, though, there are fingers tracing the corner of his lips. Baekhyun’s eyes dart open, and only then does he see how intensely Chanyeol is staring back at him.</p><p>His eyes are round, wider than Baekhyun’s, and colored a dark, dark chocolate. And in that moment, Baekhyun can’t stop looking into them.</p><p>He wants to lean in closer. He wants Chanyeol to keep touching him. He wants—</p><p>But Chanyeol breaks the gaze before Baekhyun can stare for longer. The blush Baekhyun had witnessed earlier that night flares high onto his cheeks again, and Baekhyun feels a similar flush spreading fast across his own face and neck.</p><p>“S-sorry,” Chanyeol gets out before Baekhyun can stammer the same thing. “You have a cut on your lip.”</p><p>“It’s fine.” Baekhyun averts his own eyes. “Just leave it.”</p><p>“I… okay.”</p><p>They finish quickly after that, with Chanyeol covering some older bruises on Baekhyun’s arms before finally setting the ointment down on the nightstand beside them and flipping the light switch off. Baekhyun expects him to leave him alone in the room for the rest of the night, but Chanyeol only draws a rolling chair out from the deskspace in the corner and sits down.</p><p>“Are you going to watch me sleep?” Baekhyun mumbles, his eyes tracing out Chanyeol’s silhouette in the darkness. The zip tie around his wrist keeps him from simply rolling over and sleeping on his other side, so for now he’ll just watch Chanyeol’s chest rise and fall.</p><p>“It’s just for if you need anything,” Chanyeol answers.</p><p>That again. Baekhyun snorts. “Bit creepy, isn’t it?” he murmurs, but Chanyeol simply hums in return. Soon, Baekhyun also lets himself fall quiet, feigning sleep for what feels like an hour until Chanyeol’s breaths grow deeper. Cautiously, Baekhyun waves his left arm in the air.</p><p>No response.</p><p>He sits up, careful not to rustle the bedsheets loudly, and waits. Still no response.</p><p>Baekhyun then starts to gently twist his wrist against the zip tie, working at it until his hand slips out up to his knuckles. He begins to tug harshly, wincing at how the plastic scrapes against his skin, before finally pulling his hand free after a few minutes.</p><p>His clothes are still at the foot of the bed, and Baekhyun sheds Chanyeol’s bathrobe and slips them on as quietly as he can. At one point, Chanyeol mumbles something, and Baekhyun freezes with only one arm through his shirt sleeve. But there is only silence after that, so Baekhyun proceeds to gently twist the door open and pad into the hallway.</p><p>Through the blinds in Chanyeol’s living room, Baekhyun can tell that the sky has begun to lighten. It’s early dawn then. He has time.</p><p>Looking around the rest of the room, Baekhyun takes in a coffee table stacked with mugs, a threadbare couch, and a guitar tucked into the corner. The walls are hung with the occasional framed photo: a few show Chanyeol with what looks like his parents, more are of Chanyeol smiling next to a young woman. She’s very pretty. Baekhyun swallows the strange ache of disappointment rising to the back of his throat.</p><p>He makes his way into the kitchen and immediately spots a wallet and keys lying on the dining table. Baekhyun digs through the leather folds and finds three hundred thousand won in paper bills. Baekhyun grits his teeth—it’s not enough. He searches through the other pockets, pulling out a driver’s license and two credit cards. Baekhyun shoves the first card and the cash into his jeans, ready to put the wallet back and leave.</p><p>Chanyeol’s picture however, catches his attention as he’s tucking the license back into place. <em>Park Chanyeol. Male. Age 23</em>. Baekhyun hesitates.</p><p>He spends the next ten minutes searching the drawers for a pen. Once he finds a marker, he scribbles two lines down on a napkin and sets it underneath Chanyeol’s wallet.</p><p>Then he heads out, easing the front door shut behind him and quickly rushing down two flights to leave the apartment building. He gets a blast of biting cold wind in the face when he throws the main doors open, but to that he simply wraps his arms tighter around himself.</p><p>The first rays of sunrise have yet to peek over the roofs of the buildings around him, and the city is yet to wake up. But Baekhyun presses forward, quickening his pace along the sidewalk. Alone, again.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p><em>I’m sorry</em>.</p><p><em>I’ll repay you, I promise</em>.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This chapter was so... soft. I've become soft. :( And also a looot of set up. But next chapter will feature some good old violence and things like that, probably.</p><p>Let's just assume that everything that happened in this chapter could theoretically happen, legally. I've had way too many late-night police department googling sessions to do otherwise at this point.</p><p>Where was Jongdae? Mayhaps his wife had a baby...? :D</p><p>Let me know your thoughts! I love to hear them &lt;3<br/>You can probably make a good guess by the tags, but what kind of shady things do you think Baekhyun is wrapped up in?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. II</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Please remember to heed the tags/warnings. This chapter contains dubious consent, blood, and graphic references to murder. And also more explicit sex scenes than the previous chapters.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“So, Do, what did you think that was this time?”</p><p>“Homicide.”</p><p>“I know <em>that</em>. But what else?” Oh Sehun asks with a huff as he stands over Kyungsoo’s deskspace, leaning in to look at Kyungsoo’s monitor. “You’re the expert.”</p><p>He’s doing it for effect, Kyungsoo knows. “You should really learn to listen better, Officer Oh,” he sighs, doing his best to read through the case file he needs while ignoring Sehun’s wandering eyes. “Four bullet wounds to the chest. Broken ribs, broken fingers.”</p><p>“Is it the same then? The same killer.”</p><p>Kyungsoo stands, tucking a thick folder under his arm. “We don’t know yet,” he says quietly, as he always does. But right now, a young police officer’s ramblings are the least of his worries.</p><p>“But do you have a hunch?” Sehun calls out as Kyungsoo makes his way toward the door.</p><p>“Don’t forget to shut down the computer when you’re done, Oh. I'll see you tomorrow morning.” He smiles. “Don’t be late again.”</p><p>The afternoon sky has already dimmed by the time Kyungsoo heads out of the office building. It’s early March, when enough of winter lingers to bring long nights and frosted windows by morning. Kyungsoo prefers it that way—while the sun won’t reduce him to a literal pile of ashes, broad daylight can still be painful on his skin.</p><p>Over his lifetime, he’s learned to always come in for whatever job he’s working at the moment beyond early, and to clock out just as late. His latest gig in criminal investigation is a nuisance in this sense: no matter when he arrives each day, field work has him donning masks, scarves, and layers upon layers at least three times a week in order to head outside.</p><p>That’s the sacrifice, he supposes, watching his breath fog in front of him as he walks down the city streets. The newest technologies have made it useful to be the one controlling the evidence for his own murders, but it would also be a lie to say he spends the entire day running the police in circles in order to feed himself. Because he’s better at hiding bodies than most, it turns out, and he’s come to learn that this sector of the city is no stranger to bloodshed.</p><p>These past few months in particular, the number of mangled corpses he’s had to examine has quietly surged. There are trends—multiple bullet wounds, crushed limbs, blown-out kneecaps—but they’re scattered, and the theories are spotty at best. The kills are clean, but they feel intentionally loud to Kyungsoo. Most of the victims have been male, although a month ago Kyungsoo had arrived at a scene where a man lay dead with two little girls curled at his side.</p><p>Triple homicide. Their bodies were riddled with bullet holes, dried blood plastering the torn fabric of their clothes to cold skin. The man didn’t look older than forty. The girls, Kyungsoo was later told, were his daughters.</p><p>That was the case that caught the attention of the press, and Oh Sehun was assigned to an investigation unit with him before the week’s end. The young officer was talkative and irritating, but clueless enough for Kyungsoo to tolerate him. Sehun may be a burden, but at least he isn’t an obstacle.</p><p>Kyungsoo met Park Chanyeol for the first time a week and a half after he’d been saddled with Sehun. Or, at least, he met him for the first time face-to-face. He had walked into the tall police officer in the hallway on his way to pick up samples for the lab, and the man’s hasty apologies as he asked for directions to Sehun’s office were immediately familiar.</p><p>As Kyungsoo had looked up at the officer’s gangly frame, he realized it wasn’t just the sound of his voice that he knew: it was the scent that was on him. Kyungsoo knew that scent, that smell of blood, wasn’t the cop’s own—it was muted, quickly fading—but he recognized it from only a few days before. He had wanted to devour it.</p><p>Sehun confirmed his suspicions that Friday, the next time Chanyeol came to visit, berating his friend in harsh whispers the moment he deemed Kyungsoo to be far away enough to not overhear.</p><p>
  <em>”Chanyeol, you were robbed!”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I… I know. I already cancelled the card, I’m not going to pursue it, okay?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“You said this guy was up for prostitution charges, you can’t just not pursue it!”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I told you that might have been a mistake. He… there wasn’t direct evidence.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“There must have been at least some evidence if you were arresting someone for buying sex—”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“He wasn’t the one wh—just let it go, okay Sehun? Don’t make me regret telling you. I made a mistake. That’s it. Please.”</em>
</p><p>Kyungsoo had had half the mind to ask Chanyeol who had robbed him, but the cop would have only spouted excuses. It was an answer he already knew, anyways.</p><p>Why would Chanyeol let a prostitute, a rightful criminal, walk away though?</p><p>That’s a question that Kyungsoo still likes to entertain, even as he wanders downtown in the fading dusk, looking for prey. So far, the cop has seemed like too much of a rule follower to bend the law out of pity. Then again, perhaps even Park Chanyeol can be swayed by a warm body in his bed for the night.</p><p>Still, he doesn’t seem the type to sleep around with whores. Too upright, Kyungsoo muses to himself as he wipes at the blood on his lips with the back of his hand. He had fed on a homeless man who had clung to his leg as he’d passed, mumbling for change. He leaves the body—the man is old enough for dying in his sleep, or of the cold, to be believable.</p><p>So Kyungsoo keeps on walking, tucking his hands into his coat pockets as the night gets colder. His mind is on heading home, yet he doesn’t notice when his feet take him down a different turn, then another, and another. His body is following something, and by the time he catches himself, it’s already too late.</p><p>He doesn’t turn back.</p><p>Because, unlike what he’s seen of Park Chanyeol, Kyungsoo has no qualms about taking what he wants.</p><p>And right now, as he watches a certain prostitute whose scent sends sparks down his throat turn into a bar a few meters ahead of him, Kyungsoo knows exactly what he wants.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>The bar is dim, bathed in low orange lights, making the drink in Kyungsoo’s glass look molten. He likes this brand, the way it burns when he knocks it back, even though alcohol does nothing for him otherwise. But it does its job in blending him in, so he sits quietly and keeps his eyes fixed across the room.</p><p>The prostitute is easy to spot in an opposite corner, draped over a greasy-looking businessman as he sits in his lap. He’s wearing a sheer white blouse tonight, and Kyungsoo watches the other man slip his hand underneath it to stroke the small of the prostitute’s back before dipping down further. Kyungsoo briefly makes out the outline of a tattoo there—the inking of some sort of flower.</p><p>The prostitute only giggles, batting gently at the man’s hand. When the man doesn’t budge, the prostitute leans in to whisper something in his ear. The businessman smirks at that, then whispers something back to him.</p><p>Kyungsoo watches the prostitute draw away, his smile strained now, before shaking his head slightly. But at the sight of the businessman’s frown, the prostitute immediately seems to grow anxious. He clutches at the lapels of the man’s suit jacket, speaking quickly, and Kyungsoo doesn’t need to hear his words over the din of the room to know that he’s desperate.</p><p>The businessman runs his hand through the prostitute’s black locks, smiling once more in mock kindness. Kyungsoo watches his lips move, then curve upwards again. The prostitute nods.</p><p>Then, suddenly, the man is standing, and the prostitute nearly topples out of his lap. The businessman catches him by the waist before pressing the prostitute’s slight frame close against his own. The prostitute turns his head away, and Kyungsoo spots a split-second grimace on his face. But if the other man notices anything, he doesn’t say it.</p><p>Kyungsoo watches him pull the prostitute forward by the arm. The smaller man’s eyes flit around the room anxiously; at one point he catches Kyungsoo’s gaze before blinking away just as quickly. Kyungsoo stares after him until the pair disappear into the men’s restroom.</p><p>Fifteen minutes tick by on the clock mounted on the wall overhead. They don’t come out.</p><p>Kyungsoo finishes his drink and lets himself hesitate for a few minutes more. Then, pushing his empty glass toward the bartender, he heads over to the restroom himself.</p><p>It’s exactly what he expects to hear once the door closes behind him: choked out moans and a steady thudding against one of the bathroom stalls, all amplified by the room’s tiled walls.</p><p>The scent of the prostitute’s blood is heady in this small, enclosed space, enough to make Kyungsoo dizzy with want. But Kyungsoo only spots one pair of shoes from beneath the stall doors, and... oh.</p><p>Suddenly his mind is flooding with images of milky thighs, a slim body bent in half, pushed up against a dirty bathroom stall with nothing else for purchase, spread bare and open, open, open—</p><p>He wrenches the sink faucet on, hard enough for the handle to wobble in protest when he lets go of it. At the sound of running water, the moaning immediately cuts off, replaced by a ringing silence, at least until the first stifled whimper leaks through.</p><p>Kyungsoo tries breathing in slowly, but that only makes it more apparent how much of the prostitute’s scent is flooding his senses. The water is frigid; running his hands underneath it, Kyungsoo watches what’s left of the dried blood on his skin wash away in a cloud of dirty red. It clears his head slightly, and now he notices that his hands have been trembling. It’s not because of the cold.</p><p>So he steps outside again, walking back toward the bar before he can listen to those muffled moans pick up again. Ordering another drink, Kyungsoo forces his mind to wander. He’s already fed to his fill tonight—it’s why he’s been able to hold himself back, to sit and watch even as his instincts scream for more.</p><p>His body doesn’t need more blood, but as he downs amber liquor in its stead, there’s still the hollowness of want inside of him, undeniable. This pull—he doesn’t understand it. There shouldn’t be a reason why he’s so <em>drawn</em> to one human. Underneath the irrational desire, Kyungsoo knows it will become a weakness if he continues to do nothing.</p><p>A stool scrapes beside him. Lowering his glass, he turns, and suddenly there’s a pair of dark eyes staring into his own. The prostitute, now within arms reach, smiles sweetly, and Kyungsoo tastes iron on his tongue.</p><p>“I saw you watching me earlier. A couple times actually.” The prostitute props his chin up against a palm, eyes curving into twin crescents. There’s thick, dark eyeliner smoked out around his lash line. “You’re not a cop, are you?”</p><p>His lips look red, bitten, and there’s a bruise above his collarbone that Kyungsoo hadn’t noticed before. “Well?” he says, his voice rasping slightly at the edges.</p><p>Kyungsoo only shakes his head. If he opened his mouth now, would his fangs be prominent enough for this man to pick up on them?</p><p>“But you know what I do,” the prostitute breathes. Kyungsoo nods, still silent. “Ah, don’t be shy.” The prostitute leans in closer. “Don’t you want me?”</p><p>“Tell me your name,” Kyungsoo says, finally. The taste of blood still lingers in his mouth, growing heavier now.</p><p>“You can call me Bunny,” the prostitute hums, “or anything you want.” He sounds like he’s repeated the line a thousand times.</p><p>“Bunny,” Kyungsoo repeats flatly. “That’s… a bit <em>innocent</em>, isn’t it? For a whore.”</p><p>Something flashes across the prostitute’s face before he smiles again. “You can call me a whore too, if you like that. Or a bitch, or a slut.” He looks at Kyungsoo demurely, leaning forward once more. “I'll be a good slut for you.”</p><p>Kyungsoo gently pushes the man back into his own seat. All in due time. “I’ll buy you a drink, Bunny.”</p><p>“I don’t dri—” the man starts.</p><p>“No, really.” It’s Kyungsoo’s turn to grin, disarmingly so, as he stares back into the prostitute’s wide eyes. He wants his prey to be pliant tonight. “I insist.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Bunny is a lightweight, it turns out. His face had become flushed after just one drink, and now he wobbles and falls to his knees when Kyungsoo lets go of his arm to close a door behind them.</p><p>Granted, it was hard liquor, and Kyungsoo had kept pushing more into the prostitute’s hands whenever his glass started looking empty. The bartender had shot him a dirty look when he asked for a private room, <em>just for a friend to lie down in</em>, as Bunny’s head lolled against his shoulder.</p><p>This backroom is even dimmer than the lounge space outside, and Kyungsoo takes in a long curving chaise with a glass table at its center. But before he can approach it, he feels something warm and wet mouthing at his crotch.</p><p>Bunny blinks up at him lethargically, and then slim fingers are moving to unzip Kyungsoo’s pants. Kyungsoo catches Bunny’s wrist first, and the prostitute frowns, confused.</p><p>“You’ll pay… right?” he slurs, weakly attempting to twist his hand away. Bunny had given him his rates before the drinking had started. His voice had been laced with growing uncertainty, as if each number he listed was a step closer to Kyungsoo walking away. “Don’t you… you don’t want…?”</p><p>“I’ll pay,” Kyungsoo hushes, smoothing his hand through Bunny’s hair before tracing his thumb along his jaw. “We can do that later.”</p><p>Hefting Bunny up in his arms, he walks over to the chaise. With the prostitute now clinging tightly to his shoulders, his bare throat so close to Kyungsoo’s lips, the urge to sink his fangs in—to bite and kill—is maddening. But that’s no longer what Kyungsoo wants, at least not exactly.</p><p>When he sits down, Bunny quickly straightens in his lap. Waiting obediently like this, he reminds Kyungsoo of a frightened puppy. Perhaps he should have gotten the prostitute to crawl to him from the doorway, on his hands and knees like a dog.</p><p>“Take off your clothes.”</p><p>Without a word, Bunny begins unbuttoning his blouse. The act feels mechanical, automatic—as much of a long-instilled habit as the fake name is on his tongue. Letting the gauzy white fabric slip from his shoulders onto the floor, Bunny moves onto his pants. Kyungsoo catches sight of black lace underneath, before that too is gone and Bunny is sitting naked in his lap.</p><p>Now, Kyungsoo can see how the drunken flush on Bunny’s face extends down his chest in reddened splotches. His body is soft, all sloping curves and pale skin, and so, so warm. He has a small waist and wider hips, but the way he’s carefully tucked his hands in his lap prevents Kyungsoo from seeing much else. Instead, Kyungsoo spots a familiar silver packet clutched in Bunny’s hand.</p><p>He smirks, opening the prostitute’s fingers and taking the condom packet into his own palm. “Get up. On your knees.”</p><p>Bunny raises himself up on quivering thighs, his knees straddling Kyungsoo’s legs, before he drunkenly tips forward again. Kyungsoo catches him before he can fall against his chest, holding Bunny upright with a hand on his right shoulder.</p><p>Then Kyungsoo wraps his other hand around Bunny’s half-hard cock, stroking up and down. It draws a soft whimper out of the prostitute’s mouth, and a mix of confusion and surprise flits across his eyes.</p><p>“Does that feel good?” Kyungsoo murmurs.</p><p>Bunny whines again, letting his eyes fall shut as he begins to buck his hips into Kyungsoo’s hand. Kyungsoo smiles at that, letting his hand fall away to watch the prostitute rut helplessly against air. Bunny’s eyes blink open again, initial confusion giving way to a fucking <em>pout</em>, until Kyungsoo runs his hand over the crest of his ass.</p><p>Tracing his fingertips across Bunny’s entrance, Kyungsoo finds that it’s not hard to push a finger inside, followed by another. It’s still somewhat wet.</p><p>“How much did you prep yourself, hm, Bunny?” he whispers.</p><p>“Nngh… I… I—”</p><p>“I want to see you touch yourself.”</p><p>The prostitute reaches to touch his own cock, but Kyungsoo grasps his wrist tightly, stopping him. “No,” he murmurs. “Fuck yourself on your fingers.”</p><p>Bunny lets out a small sob, but he still slides two fingers into his mouth, suckling and wetting them. Wrapped around those digits, his lips are shiny with spit. Fuck, it looks obscene.</p><p>When he finally pulls them out, he reaches behind him and slides those slender fingers into his ass, pumping them in and out. When he’s worked up a steady rhythm, Kyungsoo grips the prostitute’s length in his hand again, rubbing his thumb carefully around the head of Bunny’s cock and watching beads of precum swell and leak.</p><p>“S-stop,” Bunny slurs brokenly. “Don’t… don’t touch… ’s t-too much.” It’s all he gets out before a moan cuts his sentence short. His thighs are trembling more now, and as Kyungsoo strokes faster despite the protests, his entire frame starts shaking like a leaf.</p><p>To that, Kyungsoo digs his thumb sharply into the slit of Bunny’s cock.</p><p>“A-ah!” Bunny keens, squeezing his eyes shut.</p><p>“What’s wrong? Don’t you want to feel good?” Kyungsoo breathes. Bunny shakes his head stiffly. The two fingers he has up his ass have long stilled, so Kyungsoo lets go of the prostitute’s shoulder and shoves two of his own fingers in knuckle-deep alongside Bunny’s own.</p><p>Bunny wails at the sudden stretch, voice crescendoing into a high whine when Kyungsoo pushes deeper to prod harshly at his prostate. He’s slumped against Kyungsoo’s chest, chin hooked over a shoulder, and now he turns his face to muffle his moans in the fabric of Kyungsoo’s jacket when the fingers toying with his entrance don’t stop moving.</p><p>“Were you scared of this?” Kyungsoo crooks his fingers, pressing harder at that spot inside of Bunny. “You hardly touched it on your own.”</p><p>“P-please,” Bunny gasps, writhing as he tries to draw his own hand back out from behind him.</p><p>Kyungsoo lets him this time, still working Bunny’s cock in his fist cruelly. “Please what?”</p><p>“Fuck me,” Bunny whispers hoarsely. “Please… just fuck me.”</p><p>He groans when Kyungsoo only pushes another finger into his hole, and begins grasping at Kyungsoo’s pants again, undoing the zipper and tearing open the condom packet with his teeth. “You can use me…” he pants, taking Kyungsoo’s cock in his hands now. “Why… why won’t you just use me?”</p><p>Kyungsoo smiles against the prostitute’s shoulder. Where would the fun be in that? Playthings should be tested before they’re kept, after all.</p><p>In one swift motion, he turns Bunny around and pushes him down so his back slams against the cushions. Bunny stares up at him breathlessly, that frightened look hovering over his gaze again.</p><p>“You hate this that much, huh?” Kyungsoo murmurs, his face inches from the prostitute’s as he cages Bunny’s body with his own. “Poor little whore.”</p><p>Bunny cries out when Kyungsoo pushes into him with a rough thrust, his hands flying up to Kyungsoo’s shoulders and digging in painfully. Kyungsoo doesn’t let up, keeping at a pace that has Bunny desperately arching his back and whimpering a slew of nonsense.</p><p>He keeps trying to close his legs, Kyungsoo notices, either through attempts to lock his ankles behind Kyungsoo’s backs or to tuck his knees up against his chest. It’s almost pitiful—the way the prostitute seems to sob each time Kyungsoo spreads his thighs wide open again.</p><p>This time, he hikes one of Bunny’s legs over his shoulder and lets his lips brush against the skin of his inner thigh. He can hear the rush of blood pounding through the prostitute’s veins, the thudding of his heartbeat. The scent is overpowering. It’s becoming too much. Kyungsoo grits his teeth and grips the back of Bunny’s knees, forcing them forward so the prostitute’s body is folded in half.</p><p>The sudden change in angle draws an open-mouthed moan from Bunny, his head falling back and his voice pitching impossibly higher as the cock inside of him begins to hit deeper. He drags his nails down Kyungsoo’s thighs in an effort for him to slow, squirming helplessly. “C-can’t… I can’t… I-I’m going to…” he whimpers between heavy breaths.</p><p>Kyungsoo doesn’t want to bite Bunny’s neck—he’d no doubt kill him that way. But his control is at its limit, his fangs are growing again for the last time, faster and faster.</p><p>He snarls.</p><p>Bunny screams when sharp teeth pierce deep into the flesh of his shoulder, but Kyungsoo knows it’s less pain than pleasure. His bites are numbing, but also capable of sending overwhelming shocks of ecstasy through humans if he wishes it. He takes the prostitute’s full body shudder, followed by the white shooting across his stomach and chest, as evidence enough.</p><p>Kyungsoo barely pays that any mind, however. Because, <em>fuck</em>, Bunny’s blood tastes <em>sweet</em>, sweet like fucking heaven, and as Kyungsoo finds his own release in the tight heat of the prostitute's body, he wishes he could still die with that taste on his tongue.</p><p>He can barely remember why he shouldn’t just drain the prostitute dry. But Bunny is going limp, his heartbeat picking up frantically, and Kyungsoo finally forces himself to pull away. There’s red smeared across Bunny’s shoulder; more oozes out in thick trails from where his fangs had punctured skin. Kyungsoo laps his tongue over the blood there, drinking in the last of that <em>taste</em>, until the prostitute’s skin is unstained again and the open wounds morph into fading bruises.</p><p>When he finally sits up again, he sees Bunny staring at him, immobilized. The look on his face is pure terror.</p><p>Kyungsoo simply smiles, pulling out and tying the used condom. He imagines there’s blood still staining his teeth. The moment he stands, Bunny draws both knees to his chest, curling in on himself as if trying to disappear. Kyungsoo has never let a human he’s fed on live before. It’s certainly… a hassle.</p><p>“I know you have questions,” he says, straightening his clothes. He's mildly surprised—he really hadn’t taken much off this time.</p><p>Bunny only continues to stare. He’s wrapped his arms around his bare knees, and Kyungsoo can see his fingers trembling now.</p><p>“No?” Kyungsoo squats down so he’s closer to eye level with the terrified prostitute, who tries to shrink away further. Kyungsoo sighs. He never likes wasting energy on a glamor, but he may as well have to for this to work. He’s had more than enough blood tonight anyways.</p><p>“I drank your blood. It’s how I eat,” he says lightly. He stares hard into Bunny’s eyes, watching for a haze to settle over his expression. Then, like a switch that’s been flipped, Bunny’s hands stop trembling. The fear on his face is still there, but it feels more like an echo now, coupled with a strange vacancy.</p><p>“Let’s start over, hm? Tell me your name. Your real name.”</p><p>Bunny blinks, and his brows furrow as if he’s fighting something inside of him. His eyes cloud, before they start to brim with tears. “Byun Baekhyun,” he whispers at last, prompting twin teardrops to roll down his face.</p><p>“Baekhyun,” Kyungsoo smiles. “You hate doing this, don’t you, Baekhyun? Selling yourself every night.”</p><p>Baekhyun nods, tears starting to cause the black around his eyes to smudge and run.</p><p>“Who’s making you do it then?”</p><p>At that question though, Baekhyun bites his lip, shaking his head fiercely. The tears are coming faster now, his breaths growing harsher. Kyungsoo frowns. Baekhyun’s mind is desperately resisting him. Protecting somebody, is he? Kyungsoo can’t deny that he’s intrigued—but for now, the question isn’t important enough to be worth the extra effort.</p><p>“How much are you making a night?” he asks instead.</p><p>“One million won,” Baekhyun mumbles. “I need one million won, every night. It… it’s my quota.” He pauses. “But…”</p><p>“But what?”</p><p>Baekhyun closes his eyes, breathing shakily. “I need to pay. I have to, I-I need to pay him too. Chanyeol. I need to pay Chanyeol.”</p><p>“Chanyeol…?” Kyungsoo repeats softly. “Is that the police officer? Park Chanyeol?”</p><p>Baekhyun somehow goes redder, before finally nodding again. “I need to give it back,” he whispers. “My… my prices are too high right now. But I have to. I have to… to pay Chanyeol.”</p><p>Even under the control of Kyungsoo’s glamor, some of Baekhyun’s words have begun slipping into each other again. The flush on his face, accentuated by sex and the tear tracks shining on his cheeks, hasn't gone away. He’s still drunk then, and now that the shock is ebbing, very much so.</p><p>“You’re going to remember what I tell you,” Kyungsoo says slowly. Baekhyun’s eyes, still shining wet, stare back at him blankly. “I don’t know why you need this money,” he continues, “nor do I really care. But I’ll give you what you need.”</p><p>He opens his wallet and draws out a wad of bills. In total, it’s more than two and a half million won. Kyungsoo holds his hand out, waiting for Baekhyun to take the money. Baekhyun hesitates, but Kyungsoo senses deep desperation—he won’t pass it up.</p><p>The moment Baekhyun touches the bills, Kyungsoo drops the glamor. Immediately, fear, layered with suspicion, floods back into Baekhyun’s face. Yet, he doesn’t flinch away.</p><p>“What... what do you want with me?” Baekhyun says slowly.</p><p>“I would have killed you by now, if you were anyone else. But you... you’re very special to me now.”</p><p>“What...?”</p><p>“Your kind would call me a vampire, right? I feed off human blood. I don’t age. I can’t die,” Kyungsoo answers, bitterness tinging his tone now. “But your blood... tastes good to me. It’s better than I’ve ever had.”</p><p>Baekhyun is staring at him again, wide-eyed and silent. He still doesn’t understand.</p><p>“I let you live. I healed you. You’ll be completely bonded to me soon.” A bond meant a connection of the mind; he’d have total control over Baekhyun’s body whenever he wished it. “I can make you come to me, obey me, even kill yourself if I wanted you to.”</p><p>“I don’t want to die,” Baekhyun whispers suddenly. “Please... please, I don’t want to die.”</p><p>Kyungsoo sighs. “I’m not going to kill you.” He’s not going to keep Baekhyun by force either, no, that’s not worth tiring himself over, at least not yet. He’s met vampires who kept human blood slaves before, half-dead little things with horribly empty eyes. Some would keep them on collared leashes, flaunting their power to reduce a human into their lifeless doll.</p><p>Kyungsoo had always thought they were idiots, to spend their time taming a pet. Why work to break a human’s will, when you can bend it to match your own?</p><p>“I want more of your blood. I have all the money you’ll need, for every week, every night, if you let me keep feeding from you.”</p><p>“E-every night?” Baekhyun grips the money in his hand tighter. “No." His knuckles are white. "No, y-you’ll kill me.”</p><p>“I won’t kill you,” Kyungsoo repeats. “I won’t fuck you either, if you don’t want it. Unless you want to keep living like this, being raped every other day?”</p><p>Baekhyun looks away, fixing his gaze on the ground, and Kyungsoo spots tears welling in his eyes again. "... I'm used to it."</p><p>He’ll have to take some time with him then. He stands, checking his watch. It’s past midnight. “You can keep that money,” Kyungsoo answers with another sigh. “There’s more in there than you asked for, at least four times as much.” Baekhyun looks up at him, as if he’s about to protest.</p><p>“Really, keep it. Count it if you’d like.”</p><p>It’s enough money to buy Baekhyun a taste of freedom again, even with whatever the hell he’s pulling with Chanyeol. Kyungsoo knows human nature—once he gets that taste, he’ll be desperate for more.</p><p>“Call for me. My name is D.O. When you’re ready, call for me, and you’ll find me.”</p><p>He turns, ready to leave the room, when Baekhyun says quietly, “What if I report you? You’re a murderer.”</p><p>Kyungsoo looks back at him, still curled in on himself, naked and covered in his own cum. “Oh, Bunny." This time, his smile is full of pity. "Who would believe you?”</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hello again! It’s been a while :’) I'm sorry if you hate cover images on fics, but I decided to cross post this on AFF, so I felt kind of obligated to make one. </p><p>If you've been here before, you might have noticed that the total chapter number changed! I've reworked some of the plot, and with the current chapter lengths as my target right now, this fic will probably be 15 chapters or more. So hopefully that is something that you'll enjoy.</p><p>Just as a double warning, the next chapter will be one of the more disturbing/graphic and explicit segments of this fic, much more so than this one. (Sorry to Baekhyun in advance ;-; ) But loads of Chanbaek is coming soon, after we get through the pain, I promise promise promise. </p><p>As always, tell me what you thought! Please come say hi to me in the comments, and kudos are always appreciated :D</p>
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